Last Words
by E Salvatore
Summary: "Will do." Drifting in non-existence, Peter Bishop finds himself haunted by his dismissive last words to his Olivia. Post 'The Day We Died'; a thousand words of thoughts because we all have regrets. Round Three of my SWB Initiative.


**LAST WORDS**

"**Will do." Drifting in non-existence, Peter Bishop finds himself haunted by his dismissive last words to his Olivia. Post 'The Day We Died'; a thousand words of thoughts because we all have regrets. Round Three of my SWB Initiative.**

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><p>She can't see him.<p>

He's tried speaking, yelling, singing – everything. A few more days of this and he'll be crying, because this is a lonely (not-) existence and he misses her and Walter and Astrid and just… what is going on? And why isn't she looking for him? Why isn't she freaking out? Why is she acting as though she's never known him?

Because he doesn't exist - not anymore.

And when you don't exist and the love of your life doesn't remember you and your father can't see you, you're left with darkness and the past and regrets; oh, yes: regrets.

And we all have that one great regret; the one moment we will play on a loop in the back of our minds for eternity and regret for a lifetime. It's a moment, this one regret – a defining moment because all of our actions after that are somehow tied to that one moment; don't even try to deny that.

Peter has had his fair share of regrets; they haven't always gone unnoticed but this solitude – this isolation – has made them come out and play.

And he hates it, because there is something he regrets above all else and no one wants to see their biggest regret paraded around, right in front of them. But then again, nobody gets what they want – he seems to be a perfect example.

He wants, so badly, to give her new last words; to give them a different ending.

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><p>In a world that was dying by the minute, people learned to end every single conversation with heartfelt words and a lingering look, or a hug, or a light touch. People – everyday, ordinary people – were perfectly aware of the risks, of the harsh reality they lived in.<p>

And yet he – the man leading the battle – didn't know better; had taken it all for granted. He had left her with a dismissive 'will do' thrown over his shoulder and nothing more. No lingering look, no hug, no light touch.

And damn it, he hates himself for that; wants so badly to hurt himself for doing this. But the thing with regret is that it's punishment enough to just live your life – or not-life – knowing what you've done wrong, constantly wishing you could've done things differently, knowing that you could have changed everything.

You could have saved someone.

He could have saved her.

But he failed his Olivia; failed to protect her, failed to save her – failed to give her comfort in those very last moments; failed to let her _go _knowing that he loved her; had said so himself.

But he didn't, and that… that sucks.

It more than sucks – it's a nightmare. It's nights awake because you hear those words ringing in your ears. It's hours spent thinking of the perfect alternate scenario. It's mornings waking up with a burden in your heart because the regret is too deep inside; too much a part of you to forget for even one second.

It is Hell with no chance of finding salvation.

No chance of finding Olivia.

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><p>He wants to tell her everything he didn't, now that they're back in the past; back in the real world, because that future didn't happen – it couldn't have happened because Olivia can't die.<p>

But she's back in the past and he isn't; he is in a timeless warp, a lonely sentence, a silent purgatory. And even though she can't hear him screaming at the top of his lungs, he chooses to believe that at night, when he stands just so, and leans in next to her, and whispers just like that… he chooses to believe that the corners of her lips curl up in that special smile, because she hears him.

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><p><em>Olivia, I love you. <em>

_I don't say it nearly enough; never have. In all these years, the tough-as-nails agent has been much more verbal than the chatty con-man. It all started with that day – that horrible Machine day. You told me you loved me and you made me the happiest man in both universes. And I should have said it back; I know I should have._

_But it seemed like a goodbye; like a if-I-never-come-back thing. And I couldn't accept that; I couldn't even stand the thought that I wouldn't make it, and we wouldn't have our lifetime, and I wouldn't make you smile again._

_So I didn't say it – not because I didn't love you but because it was an unspoken promise from me to you. A promise to return, no matter what, because I _would _say those words back to you, even if I'd have to travel through time and space and rip holes in the universe._

_And somehow, I ended up doing just that – but for a reason I could never have imagined. Walter likes to think it's because I wanted to save all those other people – a whole other world. Philip thinks the same and Astrid… I think Astrid knows, but she would never tell anyone – would never tell anyone that I'm a selfish bastard who travelled back in time for his own sake, his own sanity and happiness._

_You died, Olivia. You died before I could say it back; before I could say it again. You died and all I could think of were that the last words I'd spoken to you, I hadn't even looked into your eyes, and now I would never see those eyes again. And I couldn't let that happen, sweetheart. I couldn't let those eyes rest behind closed lids; couldn't bear to see you limp and not on the go as you always were._

_I couldn't bear my last words._

_So I'm telling you now, Olivia. And I know that you will hear me, because these are the words you will carry with you forever, even if you never save me. These are the words that will seep deep inside your bones and warm your heart and complete you, even if it's just for a moment._

_These are the words I want to be the last, because this is how you will go: knowing the most important thing I feel for you._

_These are the words I want you to remember as our last words, come what may._

_**I love you, Olivia Dunham.**_

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><p><strong>Don't forget: this is only the second piece out of three (all totally unrelated) for the SWBI Fringe finale! If you haven't yet, remember to check out yesterday's '<strong>_**Am I Yours?' **_**and don't forget to come back tomorrow for **_**'In Another Life**_**'. It's a Fringe weekend!**

**Reviews are just… amazing and greatly appreciated. There's nothing like a couple of nice lines to push me out of my depressive mood swings, brought on thanks to certain people. For more information on the SWBI, make sure you visit my homepage and Twitter!**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**December 2011.**_

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><p><strong>The Screw Writer's Block Initiative (SWB Initiative) is open to everyone – and I mean everyone – who's ever won against writer's block. And if you're battling it right now…well, you've got perfect timing! Focus on a small plot bunny that just won't leave you alone and write a one-shot of your choice. Be sure to mention the Initiative or SWB Initiative. Come on, let's kick writer's block's a$$!<strong>


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